Crown and Staves
by Cakes Blargh
Summary: In which a sixteen-year-old Prince Joseph de Gallia summons his brother. ZnT Everyone Happier? AU
1. Chapter 1

AN: Fic born because I'm tired of ZnT's crossover and the typical, make Louise badass and stories she likes girls or something or whatever. Variety's sake.

* * *

He couldn't understand what his father was thinking, nor did he know what to expect out of this foolish waste of time. Joseph de Gallia, eldest son, and heir to the Gallia's throne looked up and stared at the older man in the room. It was not the king's stern eyes that met his, but his father. His blue royal hair fell to his shoulder and peppered with silver strands, the crown missing. Age has not been kind on the old man, he seemed to stoop and the clothes that once fit so well seemed to be a bit bigger. He had lost some weight.

"Joseph, begin the ritual," his father said gently, gesturing the holy marks drawn on the marble floor with offering placed to the gods and Founder for luck.

"We know how this would end," Joseph drawled. "It would end with nothing. Let Charles do it first."

His younger brother said nothing, as ever polite as his eyes remained cool as he sat against the wall of the room. "Brother, if father believes in you, then at least try."

"Nothing has come out of any efforts I've put." Joseph rolled his eyes. "Why do I bother?"

"Because laziness is unfitting for the Crown Prince," his younger brother chided.

Joseph only hummed whimsically. "I could be drinking wine right now, I could be anywhere... reading books."

Charles did not respond. No petty snide or mutter of wasting time skulking in the city instead of the palace. The young man was unresponsive as ice, unfeeling where others had shown disdain.

"Joseph." His father sighed. "We are not going anywhere until you complete the ritual."

Like the gods favored the Crown if what he had was truly a curse. Joseph huffed and slowly pulled out his wand from his wrist, unused to having it in his hand when he fumbled and let it clatter to the ground. He waited for the sigh of annoyance, the reproving mutter that was common from his mentors and tutors. None came. The men of Gallia wore many faces, many masks, who were they truly? Charles the perfect, polite and kind, gentle and easy, he spoke and made people happy. But he never once showed his fury or cried like when he was a boy. His father shown fury like a cold gale, but he was unreadable as the judgmental portraits of the previous monarchs.

Joseph bent down, picking up his wooden wand then swished it like in practice. He exhaled deeply then pressed his hand and wand to his chest, pointing the stick upward.

"Pentagon of the Five Element," he began the prayer half-heartedly.

"With emotion, Joseph," his father cut in.

More silence between the men. His fist tightened around his wand, shaking before he unclenched the wood.

"Pentagon of the Five Element!" he said again, more fervently. "I, Joseph de Gallia... beseech you?" He stopped. "Beg you?"

"Joseph," his father finally sighed. "I told you to write down your prayer, didn't I?"

There was no point in this. Joseph just shook his head.

"I'm not expecting a sermon, just a simple verse to the gods," his father said. "Repeat after me. Oh Sacred Spirit, my guardian dear. To whom Founder's love commits me here. Ever this day, be at my side. To light and guard, rule and guide."

"That's a children prayer," Joseph said accusingly.

"Simplest ones are the easiest," the King of Gallia said with a slight mirth in his tone. "Now do it, Joseph."

Let's just get this over with. Joseph glared at the ritual and whipped his wand again. "Oh Sacred Spirit," he began, drawing the circle and he felt the deep tug of his Willpower pouring. "My guardian dear. To whom Founder's love commits me here." He started one point of the five-point star. "Ever this day, be at my side." Third point of the star drawn in the air. "To light and guard, rule and guide. Answer to my guidance!"

He was sure his brother and father had whipped up a barrier of wind spell since the explosion came as expected, smashing the glass windows and sending object smashing against the walls. Well, so much for prayers being answered. Joseph thought drily as he got up, coughing then noticed he was unharmed. He frowned at this then immediately spun to see his father against the wall, covered with slight dust and broken pieces of ornate decors, he was slightly bleeding from a bit of mirror shard cutting his head.

"Father!" he cried out and rushed over to him. He should have protected himself first instead of him. "Charles! Call-"

The king grunted and looked up, quickly snapping his hand up. "Finish the ritual, Joseph," he said quickly. "I'll be fine."

"But..."

"Now!"

Joseph glared at that then reluctantly turned around but froze. Charles groaned from the ground and slowly he picked himself up from the center of the clearing. He blinked and looked around at clear circle of destruction he stood in the middle of then slowly he raised his head and stared at his brother, opening and closing his mouth. "What."

"What..." Joseph echoed.

The king frowned at this before he slightly bent sideway against the wall, looking over Joseph's legs. His face screwed and he blinked rapidly. "What?"

For the first time ever, the men of Gallia stood gaping like fish out of water.

* * *

It was obvious to his eyes but the court's on which son his father truly favored. It was always Joseph he would console first, Joseph who would be first at his study. Not because he was the eldest. For the days his brother would slouch or would neglect his duty, the days where Joseph would not even respond properly, his father would have a quick word with him to find out what was wrong. Each time, Joseph would walk out with his back straighter and less moody, at ease with himself more, even slightly confident or happier, if not contemplative on whatever private exchange they had.

His father gave them gift equally, but he paid more details to Joseph's compared to his. The toy boat for one that he was envious his brother had and secretly delighted in sinking when they had raced their toys across the lake. As usual between siblings, they often competed and Charles always won. In every game, Charles would beat him in wit, skill, and magic but unlike his brother, he had to work hard to beat him. His older brother though oblivious at how talented he was without even working a single bit, and he had the gall to wallow on his lost after each match.

And it was often why his father paid extra attention to his unmotivated elder son. Joseph could be better if he _tried_.

But he never did, always saying, "Why do I bother? No effort would come out of it."

At times, his older brother infuriated him. He couldn't understand why his brother was like that, couldn't understand why his spells always end with failure. How could he mess up something so simple? Was it the wording, was it the way he flicked his wand, was it how he handled himself? Regardless, it always ended with explosion no matter how much Joseph tried.

 _"Is it a sickness, father?"_ What kind of disease that could do that? That could take away a mage's pride, what could take the gods' blessing from the nobles?  
 _  
"No, Charles. If it is, it's one that hasn't be heard or recorded..."_

He remembered how others saw his brother that differed from his father. The incompetent son. The one without proper magic or element. He had no runic name to call himself after. Only a pile of wasted talents that he let it rot in his wallowing. It was hard to imagine that he was of royalty, sharing the lineage of Brimir that could do wonders with magic, surrounded with those who were less than them and could do more than him when he had none of those blessings himself.

His brother was a failure, simple as that. But still, their father supported him, and today was just another day for Joseph.

Compared to other spells where the mage relied on their skills, knowledge, and element, the Familiar Ritual only relied on the mage's heart and mind. Heaven and fate do the rest. There was no way his brother could screw this one up as this was the only spell that could be counted as a direct answer from the Founder and the gods. Except he did... right?

Joseph stood in front of him awkwardly, his face sharing the same confusion. They inched their face forward slowly, both siblings slightly hesitated but managed to get their noses almost slightly touching until he felt Joseph's warm breath against his skin. Charles finally winced and moved back.

"This has to be a mistake, father," Charles said loudly.

"If it's a mistake, then no harm done," their father said after having few curt words with the servants and guards that came running. "Just finish the ritual."

The usual uninterested tone their father would have when it came to awkward trivial moments like these contrasted sharply at the glare he was giving them. He couldn't believe he was thinking of it this way, but their father was pretty damn interested in seeing two of his sons kissing in front of him.

"Familiars are meant to be animal and beast," Charles complained. Creatures that were less than them, creatures that obviously meant to _serve_ their summoner. Not prince!

"Charles." Their father sighed in irritation. "Only those that are willing and destined are summoned. No history or records of any beast have refused the mage that summoned them. Not even those that could have easily crushed their master. This is our only proof that the gods are watching and have chosen well enough."

"Even when swamp toads are royal familiars?" Joseph muttered softly to himself. "Very regal and majestic, fitting for royalty."

Charles once laughed as he knew the tale of their distant ancestor Cassandra who had a pet slimy toad as a familiar. How great the familiar showed how well the gods favored the mage, and as royalty, it should be expected to have the best. But history has shown the gods didn't care when it came to that and it was best not to encourage the ill gossips the public liked to use and criticize without effort.

"As I was saying," their father glared a bit. "You would not be standing there." Charles looked down at the center of the five-pointed star unmarked by the damages. "Unless you are not willing to stand by your brother as his companion."

Joseph muttered about honeyed words but kept to himself.

"Are you, as his brother, not a companion to him already?" his father went on.

"But they are meant to serve their summoners!"

"And as the second prince, do you not serve the crown and in extension your brother, the crown prince?" Except no one knew if Joseph would really be king as the future was not set in stone. Crowns has passed down into the younger royalty hands before.

He hesitated and his older brother scratched the side of his arm awkwardly.

"Father," Joseph began. "We know that's hogwash."

"Not now, Joseph!"

The two young men winced as their father furiously glared at them, his forehead still slightly bleeding from the chipped mirror from earlier. Their father eyed Charles critically, and for the first time, he was calling out what his duties were and where his loyalty laid. Something he would only do to Joseph when he needed to reprimand him. Charles gulped and looked at his brother in the eyes. Solemnly, he shut them, sighing then bowed forward, only to smack his head against his brother's lips due how close they were.

"Ow, Charles!" Joseph exclaimed, taking few steps back and clutching his mouth where his teeth hurt.

Charles looked up, opening his mouth to apologize but felt a blinding intense pain scratched onto his forehead and into his mind. He screamed and pretty much blacked out onto the floor.

* * *

He looked down at the rippling reflection of the lake, pale faded scars inscribed on his head.

"What does it say?" Charles asked quietly as they sat on the shores of their childhood lake as they often did when they took rides in the forest outside Versailles.

"I don't know." Joseph shrugged, chucking a pebble into the water, letting it skip across the water surface. "I asked father and he wouldn't say."

The two said nothing at each other, their horses whickered in the background.

"Did you really wanted to be..." Joseph struggled. "My companion?" he blurted.

"When you word it that way," Charles said drily as he leaned his chin onto his knees.

"Well, it's better than saying familiar," he pointed back. "I get it, Charles. Who would want to serve under an incompetent king," he said snidely more to himself.

He grimaced at that. Joseph only put himself in more awkward position when he did that, why couldn't he understand that? He wasn't sure how his father did it, knowing how to say the right word to get his brother back to his usual self.

"Father believes in you," Charles said quietly. "He always does."

"Do you?"

... _No_. "Yes," he said the word easily. "Of course, I do."

Joseph turned and looked at him, his blue eyes uncanny and unreadable. It was disturbing how similar his expression was to that of their father when it came to reading him. How could he recover himself before his older brother, when he saw his hesitation in the room. Even now, he saw through him. Was he disappointed? Disgusted? Angry? Joseph started to snicker and laugh, curling up to his belly.

Charles stared at him with wide eyes, was this another of his spontaneous mood swing? "W-why are you laughing?" he asked.

"I-it's your face." Joseph giggled, pointing between his laughter. "It's the look on your face. You never made that face before."

He frowned at his brother. "I don't know what you are talking about," he muttered sourly, his face slightly burning.

"You are always so stiff and polite." His brother shoved him hard enough that he had to slam his palm onto the pebbled shores to stop him from falling.

"S-stop that!" Charles scolded.

His brother just laughed. Charles frowned at that and shoved his brother back. Joseph only laughed harder and he fumed from his spot, glaring as he sat. He took a pebble from the ground and flicked his wrist. The stone skipping twelve times before plopping.

"You beat me in everything," Joseph said at that, sighing after a bit of laugh.

The two brothers sat there, watching the ripples in the lake leading to the distant forest and mountains that crossed to Romalia.

"Not everything," Charles conceded. "Remember sword practice? You beat me easily."

"That was in a duel with rules. Fighting like a commoner isn't useful, Charles. With wind magic, you would have easily beaten me." Joseph hung his head. "To tell you the truth, I didn't want to come today. I had planned to skip father's request," he told him.

"Then why didn't you?"

"To see you succeed like a brother should," he said flatly. "I'm curious on what you would summon. Was it wrong of me?"

"No." He could say the same with their father's expectations on him and what he saw in Joseph. "Do you think father knew this would happen today?" he asked.

"That _you_ would be summoned." Joseph looked and frowned. "Is there anyone in the world that could predict what kind of familiar a mage would summon?"

Charles sat there, matching his brother's look. "Did father have a familiar of his own?"

Summoning familiars weren't a thing nobles ever do anymore unless one was prestige and could afford to take care an exotic creature. The less said about the history of royalties and their familiars, the better.

"I don't think so. But if he did, I bet is that black Gallian tiger he has for a rug in the bedroom."

"You think father would skin a sacred, royal familiar like that?" Charles stared at his brother.

Joseph shrugged then stood up with the pebbles crunching under. "We should head back," he said, looking at the evening sky.

"What about this?" He pointed at his forehead.

"Maybe hats are going to be in fashion again." Joseph leaned back critically. "How about cutting your hair like the page's boy? It would cover the runes."

Charles glared.

"No? Okay." His brother laughed then clapped his hand together suddenly. "You haven't summoned your familiar!" he said then bizarrely he spun around and ran off.

"Joseph!" he called out at his running brother. "Where are you going?"

"Setting up the summoning circle!"

"What... w-why?"

"Because you haven-"

"No, I mean why here! Now!"

He carried no offerings to the gods, and to summon in a forest with the dirt and dead leaves on the ground, unpurified ground. He was sure this was going to offend someone.

"Joseph, I don't think this is a good idea," he said to his brother as the young man set down white pebbles meticulously, making the circle and the pentagram.

"Why not?" Joseph looked up, grinning.

"Because!" Charles began. "Because, it's treating a divine ritual with less than respect. And the circle needs to be bigger." He pointed out, and it was the wrong time of day.

"Then get some," his brother pointed.

Knowing his brother wasn't going to be dissuaded when he got his head into it, Charles sighed and went back to the stony shores, picking up the handful of pebbles. The two brothers set to task and after half an hour, they had a circle and star.

"Now do it," his brother said.

"You can't rush this," Charles snapped, feeling nervous with his wand out.

"C'mon, Charles. If we're late, we're going to miss out dinner. And you know how father can be when that happens."

Sometimes, Joseph made him want to scream out in frustration. He had spent hours writing his prayer, only to not use it?

"Grant me, Founder, a steady hand and watchful eye," Charles began. "That no one shall be hurt as I pass by. Shelter those, who bear my company, from misfortune and calamity. Oh Sacred Familiar, heed my summoning, and answer my call!"

A loud swept of wind exploded, tugging the strands of their hair and clothes, and roaring into their ears before it died down. Charles raised his arm and blinked the dust away from his eyes rapidly. He raised his head and slightly froze. Joseph inched closer to his side as they both stared at the blue scales that fitted royal blue of Gallia and the matching fierce slitted eyes.

"Iruku?" it chirped.

Joseph laughed slightly at his side. "It talks."

* * *

Today was a very bad day for Charles Harold de'Orleans. Not only he had to deal with a splitting headache for the whole day after blacking out at the summoning, now he had to deal with a clingy _talking_ dragon... who could shapeshift, that said everything he needed to know that it was some kind of Firstborn race.

"You can't come inside!" Charles hissed at the sixteen-year-old girl who shared the same royal blue hair as him and had wrapped her arms around his waist tightly in a crushing hug from behind.

Joseph continually stood beside him, grinning. "Oh, why not, Charles?"

"Because!" _She's naked!_ How was he going to explain this to their father?

"Iruku don't want to sleep outside!" she wailed like a ten-year-old child, her voice muffled when she pressed her face onto his back. Charles grunted and tugged, trying to drag both himself and the dragon out of the stable, but it felt like she weighed a ton.

"She's your dragon," Joseph said. "You've got to take care of your familiar."

"Joseph, _please_. I beg you," he slightly sobbed trying to pull away from the girl with the strength of a dragon.

If she was a dragon why was she scared sleeping outside? Nothing was scarier than a dragon, right? His brother just laughed, it seemed he enjoyed when his younger brother suffered.

"She's a kid," Joseph stated critically. "A baby dragon."

"She doesn't look like one!"

"Can you breathe fire?" His older brother asked the girl.

She made a whining sound and shook her head, rubbing her face on her brother's back.

"A defenseless, _baby_ dragon."

"Where would she sleep?!"

"Where familiars do? In their master's bedroom."

Charles gave an ugly glare at his grinning brother.

"It doesn't matter anyway. The knights brought father here," Joseph stated with a purse.

"What?" He paled and heard the marching of armor and brisk footsteps.

"A dragon did fly towards the castle with impossible speed a mage couldn't beat, Charles. That would sure give enough heart attack for the guards."

"And would have shot her down if one of the spotter didn't note a rune on her claw," their father sharp tone cut in when he entered the stable.

The boys flinched as they stood beneath their father stern gaze, Charles eternally grimacing at being caught with a naked sixteen-year-old girl hugging him tightly from behind his back.

"What part of not grabbing attention you two don't understand." Their father shook his head.

* * *

AN: I feel like I haven't written Joseph and Charles well. I mean beside Charles being a perfect prick and pretty much hides his emotion, only breaking down when his father favored over him, he appears only as a nice cool guy. Joseph himself appears to be a bitter spirit that envies others for how they could express themselves perfectly. I don't know when this is in the timeline, nor do I know when Joseph summoned Sheffield. Probably after he took the throne. But this is an AU.

Just throwing this out there.


	2. Chapter 2

Louis Charles de'Martel, or to be correct, Louis de'Gallia, king of Gallia looked down on his ten-year-old son as he slept before him. Even in his sleep, Joseph had that frown on his face, the slight crinkle between his brows that showed he was upset. Louis sighed and slightly brushed blue wild locks away from his son's face. The boy mumbled something and turned in his sleep, away from his father's hand. Another fight between brothers had happened today, one that their mother didn't really help as she immediately swooped down to Charles crying and ignored Joseph's side of story. At times, the brothers got along so well, and other times... the court had to get their grubby little hands on both of his sons, his youngest in particular.

He frowned slightly at that. Gallia had a history of brothers, siblings and families falling out, each time shaking the country with treason, coups, and assassination. Hence the saying, Two Staves, One Crown. It was usually the case of twins that one had to go. But that could be said to all Royal family that dared to have more than one child of royal blood as the younger ones may dare to have an ambition over the throne. His own parents had saw fit to have one son, something Louis was grateful though it didn't make it easier growing up as they were assassination attempts from the other noble house, cousins in particular. He replied by sending the worst to dungeons, executions, and others he gave them _accidents_ when he had the chance.

The rest saw the opportunity on the power gap between the families and immediately threw themselves at each other instead of clawing after the throne.

But that was the least of his concern, it was Joseph progress as the Crown Prince that concerned him. It was clear, his oldest boy was not winning the love of the court. He was not a sweet boy, not the angel child, Joseph came off awkward and reluctant, at times accidentally being offensive to those he socialized. Amongst children, his clear attempts of magic have made him a laughing stock and the vicious rumors of him having a disease didn't help. His son preferred being a loner after that, encouraging the rumors in his absence. Charles though, the sweet one stayed happily at his side, preferred his brother over his friends even. He was grateful that his youngest was sensitive to his older brother. But that could change.

Their mother clear attempt to divide them was one and feeding Charles with medicines he didn't need, simply because she was afraid he would catch what Joseph has. He had half the mind to send that woman to a monastery for that.

Louis quietly got up from the bed, slowly moving so as not to wake his son. He left the room, closing the wooden door behind him and stood in the dimly lit corridor of Versailles then he made his way deeper part of the palace, the center where the church of Versailles stood. Contrary to popular belief, the church was not the oldest part of the palace, even though it existed before the palace creation. It was believed the original children of Brimir set up a shrine in honor of their father, but that was false. The church's creation coincides with the rise of the Romalian Holy Empire, centuries later. It showed the children of Brimir didn't really regard their father in the same manner the current common followers of the Church did.

Louis ignored the floral artworks of the courtyard and headed off inside the building the garden was dedicated to. He passed by the altar and lifted the tapestry decorated behind, revealing the hidden stairs. A long time ago, treasures were hidden here beneath the church, but it became a common knowledge that churches hid golds and jewels in them and became popular raiding spot. Somewhere along the time, one of his ancestors had decided to move those treasures and hid it beneath layers of earth and vaults. Now it was just an empty room that waited him at the bottom with cobwebs in the corner.

He wasn't interested in that. Louis placed his hand on the wall, trying to find the particular crease between the stones. He pointed his wand and mouthed the words. A click was heard and two feet layered stone door revealed itself to another small empty room. He went inside, grunting and having to shut the heavy stone door behind before he leaned against the back. Louis sighed at the tedious ritual he had to do and said the magic words. The room groaned, stone and metal sliding against each other then the hum of downward descent came as expected.

Passed another series of dank corridor, Louis finally reached his destination where the secret dungeon and the research facilities waited for him.

"I need to make a better shortcut," Louis commented drily when he finally reached the male researcher who stood before a cell, seeming to antagonize the pair of furious red eyes that waited behind the bars of enchanted steel.

"But that would compromise the secrecy and security your grandfather has built, Your Majesty," the Gallian mage pointed out.

"I'll send the builders for you to use after," Louis grumbled.

"More candidates whining and shouting the heretics and heathen that we all are," the researcher replied back. "But healthy fit candidates are tempting... since..." He motioned the rows of cells. "They don't really make good working material, Your Majesty."

"And that is your fault. The duties of their current health fall onto you," Louis pointed out. "Do you have other things to do than to annoy that minotaur you're currently antagonizing?"

The mage pouted before stepping away and motioning the Gallia's king to his office. They walked through a maze of corridors, workshops and a gallery that overlooked his most elite knights fighting and dragging a screeching cockatrice by chains.

"I really should build a separate facility for all of this," Louis muttered as he narrowed his eyes. Whose smart idea to put a research facility housing the worst of Gallia monsters and criminals beneath the seat of power, the Palace of Versailles? This was like a cave waiting to be collapsed. Oh wait, it was his great great grandfather who had a smart idea of cheating death by researching immortality. He died, by the way. Or maybe he got what he wanted and became a vampire.

His father (bless his soul), Robespierre III didn't help and thought to continue the work of providing the greatest minds working under the eyes of Gallia royalty, was to build the goddamn family palace that was Versailles on top of it and moved everything over instead of staying in Lutece.

"We would love more support and funding, Your Majesty!" the researcher said with glee. "But... the trip for the executed would lengthen and inconvenience our prisoners."

"Not unless I make it a private prison as well," the King of Gallia pondered. It wouldn't be suspicious sending prisoners to their new home where they ought to be.

"Is that a yes to get your architects?"

Louis blue icy eyes turned and glared at his head researcher. The mage deflated a bit.

"My apology for the boldness, Your Majesty." He bowed.

"I have not forgotten that you let one of your researchers escaped with an important document on chimeric monsters," Louis began. "I had expected you to hunt down that assistant of yours before he started selling the idea of making these awful pets of the experiment running around in the wild. I lost two towns, Jacob. Two towns and gods know how many villages over that monster."

"Of course, Your Majesty. We are looking over this as well."

"And the documents, Jacob? The experiments that went outside jurisdiction?"

"We have apprehended some nobles on the latter. But policing nobles with too much free time tend to be troublesome. We lack manpower," Jacob reported before turning around and continued his way to his office.

"I can reassign more knights to hunt down those monsters and rogue mages."

"That is not the problem, Your Majesty. We have hunters and your current inquisitors for that. You ask a way to _prevent_ tragedy from happening, is that not?"

They walked into a room filled with bookshelves and a desk in the center cluttered with paperwork and books.

"Sadly, to punish the wrong, the wrong has to happen," Jacob said, positioning a seat for his king to sit before sweeping to the bookshelves, opening a cabinet and bringing out the glass and wine. "By the time we get the full reports, as you said, towns, villages, the missing dead and gone before they could be saved. If we are lucky, a stray survivor escapes, maybe a servant happy to talk about their master would be our only source of those crimes before the worst happens. But by then, they either offed the remaining witness and clean up the evidence."

He poured the wine before the king.

"Your kingdom is vast, Louis," Jacob said. "But it stretches out your loyal mages that you need to send somewhere else instead of combing every nook and crannies for every foul cries."

"I'm perfectly aware of that, Jacob," the King of Gallia stated flatly, taking his glass of wine.

"But if we could make _more_ mages out of the most loyal rank of your army," Jacob said excitedly as he sat down on the other side of his desk. "Then we solve our manpower problem."

"You delve into heretical research."

"As if what we are doing here isn't, my king." Jacob laughed, gesturing the records and books in his shelves that would have him hanged on the street of Romalia. "Think about it, you would have the most advanced army compare to other nations."

"Having the most mages in the rank does not make a greater army," Louis stated. "I would've thought seeking a way to access Firstborn magic was the superior option instead of making traditional mages."

"Ah, yes. It's the low hanging fruit since no sane mage would volunteer for our research cause. Plenty of monsters though." He snorted in amusement. "Quality over quantity and all that, I do concede that is the problem. If anything about our research on the abandoned bastards from the monastery, adults practicing magic for the first time can barely do anything with it compare to learned children. But... I'm sure we could find a way to boost their power than just awaken them, perhaps find ways to replicate talents even."

"Blood does not make skill." Louis shook his head, knowing where this was going. If that was true, the royal line would've been powerful than their vassals. "Practice, diligence and experience do."

"As well as luck, Your Majesty. But I don't believe in luck," Jacob added cheekily. "If blood does make a mage a mage, then those commoners I have transfused mage's blood to would have picked up the craft."

"Then what makes a mage a mage?"

"Interested on your eldest son's problem?"

Louis' eyes flashed, they turned a tad colder than usual. "You've been watching my son?" His tone nonchalant but there was an ominous threat that hid behind them.

Jacob was sure he felt a knife pressed against his neck as he smiled at his king. "He has... an interesting affliction. To those foolish eyes, they may think he's sick! Or cursed. I've always been curious about curses," he added offhandedly. "Never seen them before and I've always wondered why they couldn't break it. I mean, all curse can be broken by death since that is the point of curse. Drive them mad enough to kill themselves. So why couldn't they die and get resurrect back, curse-free?"

"Because you can't resurrect the dead," the king stated drily.

"I disagree. I have proof of records that you can resurrect the dead... the freshly dead at least. And no, they don't become undead or dolls."

Louis sighed at the current topic. "What do you really think about my son, Jacob?"

"I think they are mistaken. I've studied diseases that could take a mage's power, Your Majesty. I've even researched poisons that could do the same to make apprehending rogue mages easier. If any of those rumors about your son are true, then he would be dying right now and not see the next decade of his life."

Louis glared at him.

"But no doubt, you knew about that from the many healers you've asked and have checked every single cuisine that passed into your son's mouth. And I rather doubt you believe in curses."

"Your point, Jacob."

"What makes a mage a mage..." Jacob pointed at his head. "Our brain. If you transferred a mage's brain into a commoner, and if they lived through the process, they would still have access to their magic."

"Are you saying there's something _wrong_ with my son's head?"

"No, no... no," Jacob said quickly, shaking his hands before him. "If there was, many of our insane criminals wouldn't be using magic." And not be effective at it... "If anything I've learned from my travel at Rub al'Khali, one has to remove a certain part of that squiggly mush to take away a mage's power. At the expense of not having emotions, of course."

"Do the elves truly lobotomized their criminals?"

"Certain... criminals."

"Mages like ours?"

"Yes and no. They do this to their own kind even. Certain tribes don't practice execution, but they still don't take kindly to murders and misusing the spirits. So they took the... _tools_ away."

"Can they give it back once it's removed?"

"That is the one detail that escapes me," Jacob said quietly. "And I doubt they would be happy to share their knowledge with a man like myself. But... Your Majesty, even if we found the way to give back such ability, I'm afraid that would not solve your son's problem."

King Louis raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair before he motioned for him to continue.

"Contrary to others' belief, your son does not lack magic. He is a mage, pure and simple. If he truly lack magic, he would not be able to produce any results at all, let alone the explosions. That is something I can say for certain since... I've seen enough of those who are removed from theirs. The part that makes us able to cast magic is in your son's head. At least, I think. But we can make sure by opening your son..." He stopped himself wisely as the temperature in the room lowered.

"Except he has not once successfully cast a spell." Louis grimaced and sighed. "How is that not... a symptom of some sickness that plagues him?"

"His health would be poor for one, and there would have been other symptoms similar to those incapacitated in the head."

"Then what is wrong with my Joseph!" Louis snapped. "If this continues, my son would go down as a laughing stock in history. Who has heard a ruler that cannot cast one spell!"

"Fairy tales, Your Majesty. We do have tragedies that have rulers who have no power-"

"And appeared as FOOLS! A comedy, Jacob. My son life would become a comedy!" Louis breathed heavily and stood up from his seat before pacing around the room.

"The wise choice would be to take away such heavy duties and place it onto another... one that is a better fit. It would release your son from such ridicule and would give him other options that guarantee his future happiness."

"You sound like my advisors, Jacob." The king snorted. "He's only ten," Louis said quietly.

To give up on his eldest son, how would that make him any better than those crowds who talked behind his back? Joseph was not stupid, in fact, he was far too smart for his own good. He would understand his father's decision and it would sting the boy. He might as well slap him in the face for that and say, "you're hopeless".

"My king," Jacob called out to him. "Have you read the records of your ancestors?"

Louis stopped his pacing. "No." What do derelicts of the past have to do with his son?

"There are grains of truth in tales, my lord. Rulers of royal blood without magic are preposterous, what if it isn't?"

"What are you saying?" He glared at his head researcher.

"If what your son has is a disease, and not the external cause, then perhaps it's time to take look through history."

"There are no records of such disease, Jacob. I've looked."

"Even ones that has reason to be hidden from public eyes? Like... your family records."

"You've looked?"

"I'm not _that_ impertinent, Your Majesty. Though Cassandra private life would have made the most hedonist paling." He laughed shakily as his king gave a pointed look. "But if the royal line does suffer from such unique family disease, it would be wise they would not make it known. Even ones that would skip generations before it resurfaces again."

Louis narrowed his eyes at that. "Even if I do find my answers, it would not mean I would find a cure," he said quietly. "They wouldn't need to hide such history if there was one."

"But it's better than thinking what your son has is a curse." Jacob pursed. "But curse does have a reason to exist, don't they, my lord?"

* * *

Curse does have a reason to exist, at least this one. That was something he could be assured when he looked at his younger son forehead. But even when he found out the cause and reason, the damage was done. Joseph has suffered sixteen years of humiliation and that has taken its toll on his son. Now for the first time ever, he has succeeded casting a spell, and the gods finally answered their prayers. Still, he had to wonder what to make of Charles being his brother's familiar. He had expected something else, someone else maybe.

Charles was a dutiful son no doubt, but what was his duty as a familiar, let alone a legendary familiar Myoznitnirn? Would he even accept it knowing his place was to be a servant to his master, his future king?

It was one thing to say the heaven dictate this, but believing it was another. Well, the boy was thirteen, perhaps he would grow to accept it. It would be a long time till he needed to pass the throne to his son anyway, so there was plenty of years ahead. It was Joseph he was more worried about. No doubt, what was written on his brother's forehead would strike that curiosity in him and would lead him to read the legends of Brimir's familiar. Plus, he was of age and that meant there was no more running away from his duties. The gods have made that clear that he would be the one to inherit the throne. It was time to have a word with his son about that.

"You call, father," Joseph said as he walked into his office.

"Take a seat," he told him without turning away from his view.

A huge glass window pane overlooked his desk, a big security risk that was basically saying, king of Gallia uses this office, shoot here, please. That would be the case if it weren't for one-inch glass enchanted hard enough to take a cannonball. And frankly, working in a windowless room tended to make him sleepy and would have driven him mad. He hated the library and record archive for this reason.

He turned around and looked at his son who at least was sitting straight in his presence. How to begin...

"Joseph, you're a Void Mage," he stated flatly.

The young man blinked. "Here I thought you were going to say I have to marry this year," he muttered.

"This year, no. Next year? Maybe."

"I'm not even twenty yet..."

"Originally, that was the plan but you and I both know what needn't be said."

A darker look fell on his son for that.

"You'll meet her in a ball this year, though. So you'll get to know her beforehand."

"I'm not sure that's better or not," he muttered with a frown.

"But that's not what you're here for. There is a reason no spells ever work for you, Joseph. And that is because you're not meant for those spells." Louis sat down behind his desk. "You are the successor of the Void, and that means you are the true successor of Brimir and in turn, the throne."

The teenager didn't brighten at that. "This doesn't change anything, father. Who would believe such hogwash? The failure son, the Void Saint of Gallia? And even then, it doesn't mean I would be able to cast any spells."

"A ruler never needs to cast any spell in their entire lifetime. They have their retainers to do that anyway."

"Except I'm not a king, father. I'm a prince. And as such, people would compare me to other prince and princess who has done their fair share of service to their kingdom," Joseph snapped.

Louis glared down at his son tone. Joseph looked away, no words of apology came out of his mouth.

"Do you want to learn how to cast a spell, Joseph?" he asked.

The young man still.

"Void spells are very powerful. Their incantations are said to be long and complex, it's why their familiars are important so they could protect them."

"That doesn't sound useful..." his son said quietly.

"Gods forbid it so because the only time such spells needed to be used were times of strife."

"Saints and saviors were made from those times," Joseph said. "I doubt I would be the hero our country needs. I don't even understand people."

"You won't be a hero, Joseph. You would be its king. You don't need to understand people for that, at least emotionally. You just need to understand what they need and what makes them happy. No spells are needed to be cast for that. And I know you have what it takes." He smiled at his son.

"Charles the same, he has what it takes as well."

"Then do better than him," Louis said.

"But... I can't." The boy looked down. "I don't know how to make people like me."

"I'm not talking about your social skills. That's the one thing we can't do anything about."

His son shot him a look. "What can I do, father? If I join the army, I'm useless. And they wouldn't want to risk the Crown Prince dying on them. And the less said of my attempt at court, the better. They're always comparing me to Charles, always asking about things I can't do. It's like they want..." He fumed.

"Let Charles be the sweet talker. You're there to watch and learn which individuals in court would suit what our kingdom needs. Which to trust, which to be watched, which should be rewarded, and which should be supported. That is something you need eyes and ears for. Plus, unlike Charles, you would..." He stopped and sighed. "Ours is a crown that is heavy to bear. You may say Charles would do good, but I've doubt he would support or even happily inherit it when knowing all the duties and secrets it entails, especially how we run our kingdom. You though are of age AND ready to learn more of your duties."

"Are you talking about the state's secrets?"

"Yes." Then he gave a pointed glare. "I don't appreciate you reading my records, or skulking at the wrong place, Joseph."

He hung his head at that.

"Does Charles know all about this?" The young man asked. "About the Void Mage."

"No, maybe one day. And I trust you enough to keep this a secret until then. Though if you wish to learn more about the Void, then I'm willing to arrange that for you."

Joseph sat there quietly before him, a deep frown on his face.

"Joseph," he called out to him.

His son looked up, his expression contemplative and apprehensive.

"I know you don't want this," he said gently. "I know right now you may say you're not ready, or that you don't suit this. But trust me."

With a slight hesitation, he nodded at his father word.

"One day you'll understand, Joseph."

But would he be happy?

"Why me, father? Why am I a Void Mage?"

"That... well, I think it's time to give an incense offering to the gods, don't you think?"

* * *

King Gallia: Don't believe in yourself, Joseph. Believe in me, who believes in you!


	3. Chapter 3

Charles dozed softly in his bed, the birds outside his window already tweeting and singing their early morning ritual. He continued sleeping until a heavy movement was felt beside him. He blinked, his sight wavering at the bright light of his room and stared at a sixteen-year-old young man lying beside him, fully clothed and prepared for the day. There were hints of stubbles growing on his youthful face.

Joseph grinned at him. "Good morning, brother!"

Charles blinked and promptly turned around in his bed, refusing to deal with his older brother early in the morning. Except for a girl, the same age as the young man and shared the deep blue royal hair smiled at him brightly. She was hugging a pillow tightly as she wriggled around back and forth excitedly on his bed, shaking the bed frame and bouncing on the mattress.

"Good morning, big brother!" She greeted. At least she was fully clothed… this time.

Charles hated today already.

* * *

"Aaaaah," Sylphid opened her mouth wide, the sixteen-year-old girl sitting on the marble floor of the grand hallway in a manner that was impolite and improper in the present of the Crown Prince, and to the numerous etiquettes that forbid the dawdling in corridors. Joseph really didn't care about that.

Iruku was dressed at least in an elegant plain blue dress befitting for the working servants of the palace.

He chucked a loganberry into her mouth, a berry that was the result of an earth mage combining wild blackberry and the garden variety of raspberry. It was sort of the rage these days, interbreeding and experimenting fruits and plants for new cuisine. Iruku happily snapped her mouth shut and chewed it.

"Can you stop treating my familiar like a dog?" Charles said sourly when he walked in on this.

The scar on his brother's forehead hidden from an enchanted necklace his father had given for him to wear at all times.

"Sylphid doesn't mind, right?" Joseph asked the Rhyme Dragon.

She nodded cheerfully then gestured with her index finger and pointed at her opened mouth. Joseph chucked a grape this time. The servant who held the silver bowl of fruit said nothing even though he noted the manservant's eyes were slightly amused.

"You're trying to make my dragon fat and lazy, are you?" Charles said sourly.

Joseph wondered what the court had to say about Sylphid. The fact she shared the blue hair of Gallia royalty was sure to make people talk. He had heard the mutters of a distant relative, the king's bastard maybe or Joseph long-lost twin, but the other voices were perplexed why she was dressed as a servant if she was really royalty. It didn't help the servants had once found her naked with Charles in his own bed while she squeezed and suffocated him in her sleep.

Iruku as a Rhyme Dragon had been living in isolation with her colony, and as such she would hardly know the custom of human beings and didn't understand what was appropriate and what clothes were for. She had found them itchy and often tried to strip when given the opportunity. She understood she wasn't allowed inside in her dragon form so she would change to fix that. The servants would sometimes report a girl with blue hair stumbling around on two legs, lost and naked, and because of this, people had started to talk how she was touched in the head and wondered why was the king tolerating this foolishness.

The rumors hardly bothered his father; what royalty did outside of court and governing was none of their business. At the same time, he was mildly annoyed that his youngest son had not rectified this behavior since this was a scandal waiting to happen.

 _"_ _She is your familiar, and as such, she falls under your duty."_

Charles was slightly embarrassed at this, something Joseph couldn't help being at glee for even if it was wrong of him. The whole entire thing was hilarious. Iruku being his long-lost twin, Charles clueless at how to fix the damages, Sylphid's oblivious strange behavior perplexing others.

Joseph had tried to hide his snicker that his father pointed glare couldn't stop.

His father had left it to Charles whether he should reveal Iruku true nature as a Rhyme Dragon, a species of dragons extinct in Halkegenia from excessive hunting. They were precious and powerful alchemical ingredients that were said to contain legendary properties. Bones, organs, scales, even feces apparently. Joseph was slightly sickened at the thought of potions containing beast dropping. Every single bit about them would make the most poachers frothing at the amount of gold she would represent.

Even if she was royal familiar and therefore protected, Gallia was still the seat of powerful alchemists and pioneers of natural science. Not all of them answer to the Church and the Crown, would even dare to go against the Crown with experiments that went out of the bounds of standards of guilds and academies - not like they would know that these experiments were happening in the first place. The latter was what made his father most displeased as it was a constant sore problem. He would rather have them under his eyes and within safe walls than out there, kidnapping villagers and encouraging human traffickers, releasing gods know what into the forest to terrorize the people of their nation and upsetting local nature.

The biggest problem was pests born out of the fruit of these experiments, pests that had interbred with nature and now persisted in their country.

Out of all nations, Gallia was known to have lower than average monster attacks. But when monster did attack, the devastation made up for it. Until his father showed the underground laboratories (just the one of the many secrets of the Crown), hiding the research that went beyond the realm of heretical and Church's approval, it became clear to Joseph why the numbers add up.

Here in Halkegenia, hunters made a living capturing these monsters and beasts alive or dead, and Gallia was the one nation that made most out of this market. There were less monsters in their country for this reason, and it was what made Gallia famous in having the most diverse alchemical ingredients and reagents on both legal and illegal kinds, no doubt from all those monster parts harvested and processed.

Any monsters that managed to stick around were too strong and too sly, and had managed to slip beneath the notice of city guards and his father's knights. Something easy to do as his father relied the reports of the fief lords whenever they mobilized any soldiers or mages under their pay, which most were reluctant to do whether because of money, the nobles perchance to rule their fief independently or wanting the Crown's eyes and ears not directed at them.

"Big big brother Joseph," Iruku called out to him. "Can I go out hunting?" she asked.

It was one of the adorable things Sylphid tended to do and that was how she referred them. For Charles it was obviously, _big brother_. With Joseph, big _big_ brother. With their father, _elder papa_. Joseph had howled at that.

The king was not amused but said nothing to fix that, again he left it to Charles to be responsible for her behavior.

"It's not fair, why didn't she ask me," Charles said unhappily.

"But big big brother Joseph is older?" Iruku said, turning towards the boy.

So the dragons sort their hierarchy by age, Joseph noted. Which was kind of strange since from what he read, dragons were said to be a lot older than they appear. Iruku might be centuries years older than them, but she probably wouldn't know as the dragons didn't follow human calendar system. Wait, if Iruku didn't know a lot about humans, how come she could speak their language?

"You should ask Charles. He's your master, and therefore you should refer to him first," Joseph corrected.

She blinked at that then looked at the thirteen-year-old boy. "Big brother Charles, can I go out and hunt?"

"Master, Sylphid, call me master," Charles corrected with a grave frown. "Don't the palace servants feed you with enough meats?"

"But big-" Charles glared and she deflated. "Master said I would grow fat and lazy," Iruku said quietly and looked down, pouting at the fact he disliked his familial title.

"Aww, Charles. Look what you've done," Joseph said, walking up to her and placing his chin on top of her head with his hands on her shoulders. "You know Iruku, he used to call me big brother Joseph _all the time_. What happened to you, Charles?"

"I'm not little anymore, Joseph," Charles muttered, slightly embarrassed.

"All grown up, no longer cute, and a _boring_ stickler to boot," Joseph mourned.

"I don't need this from you." His younger brother glared and spun around, knowing this was one of many attempts from him to push his button.

"Oh Charles," Joseph called out to him. "You didn't come here to greet your older brother, didn't you?"

Charles stopped, the boy slightly turning around. "I was going to ask what's been happening with you lately."

"You're worried about me, you shouldn't have!"

"On second thought, I shouldn't have asked at all." His brother marched away, slightly annoyed.

Joseph kept his smile up until his brother's form disappeared around the corner. He then frowned before saying, "You may go."

The manservant bowed and hurried off to fulfill his other duties. Joseph stood there in the corridor before he lifted his chin from Iruku and walked off. Iruku blinked, slightly surprised at his sudden change of mood.

 _Ours is a crown that is heavy to bear_.

Joseph was aware the sacrifices and the responsibilities a king had to make. Others would have felt this burden more keenly; his father bore it with ease since if anything about yesterday showed he was not bothered one bit condemning a life to be used for experiments and in constant drugged state.

A labyrinth. A labyrinth that imprisoned the worst of Gallia monsters and criminals lay right beneath them. Murderers, rapists, the depraved, and malcontents, the enemies of the kingdom - fallen mages, commoners mostly, and even few nobles themselves sat in those rows of cell. They were oddly quiet, not shouting obscenity. Only calm empty stare as they waited there. Perhaps their foods were laced with poison that made them like that.

If not, they had taken a poison that had permanently made them sedated from the get-go.

It was a prison fit for those who were sentenced to life. Amongst the numbers of executed in Gallia, only a few were chosen and sent here, a hundred at most, and that was all the king would give to the researchers here. No more, no less.

These were dead men and women destined for death, so they were at least being of use before their end.

It was a terrible way to go, to strip all of what made a person a person, humiliating even and without respect or dignity for the imprisoned nobles. Barbaric. It was to die like an animal, no better than those monsters. The lives of the disgraced no different to that of beasts.

His father could easily get rid of every evidence by destroying the important structures and let the hundred and more layers of earth bury them and the facility without the Palace of Versailles even feeling a tremor. This was the kind of power the Crown wielded.

Perhaps his father was so used to it, and he was perfectly aware of how disturbing it was to others. But why did he choose him then? Was it because he was the eldest, Charles being too young for any of this? Then he recalled how his father mentioned his brother in this.

This was another way for his father to show his love and protect his youngest son. As ruthless and stern as he was, his father was known to be kind and merciful to the populous. He didn't want Charles to deal with this, didn't want Charles to suffer the burden of the Crown.

Joseph felt bitter at this revelation. So what of him, then? Charles would be pure as snow, and he as the eldest, the failure son, would have to dirty his hands with matters like these while his brother lavished with ease of mind. But if anything that could be said about the intrigues of court, Charles would soon face the ugly side of the cutthroat Court of Gallia.

One day he would spill blood for the sake of the Crown's glory and honor, his honor even.

While he would deal with matters that would not make others singing praise for his name - the dirty deeds of assassination, interrogation and arranging the enemies of Gallia to the worst fate that would have made the most loyalist scared and balked at the amount of power and secrets the Crown hold over them. If they knew that is. Rumors remained as rumors as long there were no shreds of evidence, something no doubt father ensured with the nasty side of the royal business.

The Crown was very much like a tragedy mask, a half full of hypocrisy, a face that was above justice and the law it spoke in the name of order, the other for the court to smile with or mock, criticizing the side that the Crown could only show to them. And he was to be its king.

But he wasn't going to be a king. At least, that was what he had believed at first. But the reveal of his element, the Holy Void had cemented his future. He still couldn't believe it. He had imagined his future without the responsibilities and the duties, that all would go to Charles one day. His current life right now was just procedure of the Crown Prince, something he just needed to go through the motion until his father, finally, decided to change his mind.

Except that wasn't going to happen. That was never going to happen. Joseph was... numb. He wasn't nervous, he wasn't unhappy, he wasn't elated.

He wasn't terrified, but at the same time, the thought that he could never ever run away from the life of the court and the whispers of the failure that he was, haunted him. Was this truly his future?

His father trusted him with their country's secrets. His father believed him that he could handle the truths of their kingdom and the true face of the Crown when stripped all its glory, that he could bear such burden, that he was stronger than his brother in this regard and as such most befitting of this heavy duty of making their country the greatest. At least for now, but Charles might grow up to prove that wrong and become better than him.

Joseph walked into the cool building of the ancient church then stood before the altar. There on the altar, amongst the constantly lit candles was the incense burner, a legendary Void artifact. For an artifact, it wasn't opulent. In fact, it was simple and plain. No gold, pure brass and lacked intricate metalwork. It was said its embers and the incense coal had never once died, defying the passage of time. The trail of thin smoke always came out of it.

A smoke no one could see or smell.

But he could, especially the smell. It was the smell of flowers of springs, fresh cut wheat and crops of the summer harvest, the decaying leaves of Gallia's forest in fall, the crisp air and the melting of snow in winter. He smelled the seasons passing by, the mountains grounding into rocks and dust, hills and mountain forming, sea tides rising up and down, time moving.

He had mouthed the words that formed absentmindedly when he prayed with his father, the Ruby Ring of Earth cool around his finger instead of Gallia's king. Joseph felt like he was pulled into another time, another place.

Then his father had broken him out of his trance with a quizzical look on his face.

 _"_ _Are you alright, Joseph?"_

He lied, excusing himself promptly after. He lied to his father even when knowing how much he believed in him, and how being a Void Mage was important to him. It would only give another of many reasons for his father not to give up on his eldest son. He wasn't sure he wanted that.

Joseph now stood under the church's light, illuminated by the circular colored glass above the tapestry. His father given him this day for him to think about what he had said last night, might as well make use of it. He slowly moved and pulled out his wand from beneath his sleeve of his arm.

Then he chanted and the familiar feeling gripped him, sweeping him back to that trance-like state. He finished his chanting and Joseph blinked, the late morning sunlight seemed to be paler. No smokes or explosions came from his wand. Nothing. He frowned, slightly disappointed.

Maybe he wasn't really a Void Mage that his father believed him to be. What else did he expect, Joseph snorted from this exercise in futility.

He turned around and saw Iruku standing at the back, gazing at the arch ceiling in wonder.

"Sylphid," he called.

She didn't respond. Joseph frowned at the blatant act of rudeness. You don't ignore the Crown Prince like that.

"Sylphid!" he said louder.

Still, she didn't respond. In fact, her expression seemed to be frozen. Her posture stiff and have not once moved. This was completely different to her usual energetic and constant fidgeting. Joseph stared and walked over towards her, he waved his hand over her eyes, even patted her cheek and tried to shake her. Again, Sylphid not once blinked.

Oh no… did he accidentally turn Charles familiar into a living statue?

"Well, I'm in trouble," Joseph said at this before he quickly walked out of the church, wanting to get further away from the scene of the crime.

Except the world outside was doused in a pale blue sunlight. The color of time it seemed was blueish. Joseph gaped at all of this, slowly walking out into the courtyard and noted the bees and butterflies in the air mid-flight. The fountain water had frozen still without solidifying into ice.

Joseph touched it, the water droplets bouncing off his hand before halting completely again. Did he die and became a ghost or something? Joseph stiffened and looked around quickly, he noted a black knight was standing on the roof of the palace menacingly, overlooking the courtyard he was in. A strange knight since they weren't wearing the typical armor of Northern or Southern Parterre, the dark metal helmet they wore covered their head fully, hiding their face. They wore a cape of black fur to complement their ominous presence. The reaper? Well, he wasn't really doing anything, just standing there and watching him.

Joseph shuddered and slowly he began to walk away.

The world had stopped. Time has stopped. He frowned, staring at the bees' translucent wings. Perhaps it was his eyes, but Joseph was sure the bees were slightly moving little by little. Maybe not exactly stopped, but slowed down so much it felt like time has stopped.

"This is… this is crazy," Joseph said with wide eyes. "H-how do I stop this?"

How do you stop stopped time? Wait, why did he want to stop? This was… wasn't this what something he wanted? A time, a place where no one bugged him, no court, no father expecting something from their Crown Prince, no one to compare him to Charles. No one to bother him or stop him from doing whatever he wanted. A place and time that he made and succeeded by casting a spell.

A slow grin formed on Joseph's face.

* * *

Chef Marie Antoine Carême sighed in satisfaction at the simple oblong shaped dough, baked golden crisp to perfection and filled with the vanilla-flavored puree. He just needed to coat it with something good to compliment the dry dough and crushed almond puree filling. Jam? Caramel? Or more cream?

This was sure to make the young prince happy, he thought and turned around to grab the filling.

Later he came back to an empty plate and a servant reported the wine cellar door was left open, one of the oldest and grand collections was missing a bottle.

* * *

Anna Florine stood in the hallway of kings and queens patiently as the master restorer of the royal treasury stood at the top of the ladder and examined the painting of King Theuderic carefully with one of those specialized thick glasses. She held his equipment, containing the flasks and many weird-smelling fluids meant for polishing the brass and gold of the frames, as well restore minor damages like moisture.

"We might have to take this painting down for restoration," he noted. "There are cracks in the corner of the paint."

"Will you be writing a request to the royal historian?" she asked.

The bearded man hummed from the top of the ladder. "We probably have to since they like to record any handlings of the royal painting."

Not all paintings were grand and shared the same size as each other. Some paintings were as tall as the wall to match the ego of the monarch, others were just head portraits. It was only the past two hundred centuries that the royal paintings of monarch shared the standard size to make hallways aesthetically pleasing.

A breeze passed through the hallway, she slightly frowned, knowing no windows of the hallway of rulers were capable of opening. Anna turned and looked around for the source, then she blinked rapidly.

"Master Siegebert," she called him slowly. "Um… is it me but are all the portraits slightly tilted?"

He snorted and looked down before he frowned at the rows of painting in the hallway. "What?" He gaped.

* * *

"Again, your highness," his tutor said and flicked the blunted swordwand elegantly.

Charles grimaced, feeling the stinging aches and bruises at his wrist, arms, all over his legs and body.

"Do you not wish to defeat your brother?" the man said. "Then raise your sword again."

He nodded, raising his sword and placing his feet into the proper stance. Charles blinked away the tears building up at the corner of his eyes then he glared. A wig though was on the tip of his mentor's swordwand.

"What in the name…" his tutor began then quickly his hand snatched to his smooth bald head.

* * *

If he only said the first few words of the spell, Joseph could move faster than the eyes could see in a flash, faster than any wind spell could conjure. He ended smacking his face right into a wall though as he couldn't see it in time.

If he finished the spell, which took a lot more longer than a typical spell should - he would have slowed time to almost a stop. Everything was solid and still to his touch. Its effects were longer and didn't surprisingly drain him as much as he expected, only after the world had caught up to him and continued in its normal pace that Joseph suddenly felt the impact of the spell.

In the meantime, he could do a lot like read his little brother's journal, finish a bottle of wine and his dessert, rearrange his mother's jewelries by color except for one jewel where he would place it amongst the red rubies instead of emerald green, and tilt all the portraits of kings and queens in the hallway of his ancestors, and all within minutes. He could cut the duration short by just saying the final verse of the spell.

If he kept repeating the spell, it felt less like he was stopping time and more like he was flying around like a bird freed from its earthly body, unbound by the walls of the palace, sweeping quickly through time… faster than time. He could go through walls and floors like a ghostly swift wind, but like the wind he couldn't carry anything with him and he was too fast to note any details of the place he went. Joseph had fallen from the sky and into the garden of Grand Troyes because of this, thinking it was a smart idea to stop chanting in the middle of the air. Within seconds, he would be in Lutece and then back in Versailles with everyone none the wiser where their Crown Prince went.

If he stopped at the midpoint of the spell, the world would slow down but not completely to a stop. It would move slightly when he moved as if trying to catch up with him. He could traverse through the space at his own comfortable pace and could ease himself through walls and floor if he continuously repeated the spell. Albeit Joseph himself was wrapped in this slow effect as if time still had a few loose grip on him, his thoughts faster than his body could move. He felt like he was striding under ocean level of water, the clear air felt slightly thicker, sluggish and more solid for him to traverse through, solid enough for him to _walk_ _on air_. He could even feel the rocks and stones of the palace wall sliding over his skin when he walked through them unlike the other times.

Each step he made in this state drained him bit by bit, as if it took more willpower to be in between time and place. The duration of the spell effect was much shorter as well and could go longer as long as he repeated it. Joseph did not want to wonder what would have happened if the spell had ended while he was in a wall or ground.

Amidst all his experiments with the spell, Joseph noted the persistent black knight that stood watching him. It was only within the moments when he slowed time that he could see it, but outside of it, the knight was gone - non-existing when time moved normally. It was disconcerting, appearing and disappearing at different places each time he cast his spell. Never getting closer though, he noted.

Was a ghost haunting him? Not just any ghost, but a ghost that only haunted in the time and place Joseph could only traverse through. Except ghosts weren't still as a statue, they wouldn't keep watching the space he was in, right? He didn't spot it in Lutece and ghost didn't really exist.

An assassin? No, his father's knights and the palace guards would have noted even if it was invisible.

Joseph didn't like to be watched, and when he finally had a time and place only for himself, this apparition that he only could see followed him. He didn't like this one bit.

"Sylphid," Joseph called the dragon once he found her dozing in the sun in her dragon form.

She made a noise but didn't open her eyes. He promptly sat down on the grass beside her, slightly exhausted and not caring the fact his royal tailor would scream that he had sat on the grass and stained his clothes.

"Can your kind see ghost?" he asked.

"Ghost?" She opened her sapphire blue eyes. "Can I eat it?"

Damn it. Joseph made a face. "Ghost are dead beings whose souls are forsaken and hasn't moved on. And no, you can't eat it." At least, that was how the church's priest would have described it.

"What's a soul?"

Heretic, heathen, ignorant and naive – Joseph couldn't help but feel a lot of priests would have jumped down on Iruku's throat for asking that kind of question. The ones that would be so ignorant of Brimir's teaching were those heretical creatures and demons, Firstborn Elves. That was a quick way to get Iruku hunted down by the church's templars. He wasn't sure about the bishops and upper priests would care though since the ones they have here were too busy trying to get fat with wine and gold.

"Never mind." The Crown Prince sighed and patted her large scaly head. "Have you been seeing things…" She was a Rhyme Dragon and that would mean she had access to Firstborn magic, perhaps it would make her capable of seeing invisible beings that even his father's mages couldn't spot. Joseph heard of feats of Firstborn magic that even the best of mages couldn't see through or beat it.

"Things…" Iruku chirped quizzically.

"Something that people can't see, Iruku. Invisible things," Joseph clarified. "Maybe something, _someone_ following me and don't want to be seen by other people."

She lifted her head and tilted it, she probably didn't understand what he meant. Even if she could see it, she would think it was normal and that other people could see as well. A person hiding from sight would be just a person with an odd habit for her. It was not like she had dealt with humans and their ulterior motives considering she lived in isolation before. Human were just stories her elder would tell and warn her not to get close.

She was very young and innocent that way. Joseph couldn't help but feel Charles was lucky to have something like her. Now if he only stopped being so stern with her and had some fun.

"You know what, how about we go hunting," Joseph said when she took too long to answer.

* * *

It was simple, bait his stalker and catch them. But how? He had been in a hunt before when his father had taken him to one of the lands near the Black Forest. The nobles would make sport and hunt with their familiars. There were even Germanian nobles of the mages rank that had joined them with their bred hounds. His father didn't contribute to the sport and had hung back but he let his son join the hunt with escorts, of course.

It wasn't really fun as he didn't know how to track animals, plus it was simply tradition that the Prince didn't do anything, just follow and watch. Joseph preferred to sit and deal with boredom than going through bushes. Hunting sport was something for landless nobles, lower nobles, and knights, not prince. And what could he really do back then, point his wand and spurt out smokes?

It was a conundrum. Joseph didn't know how to trap his stalker.

"Sylphid, why didn't you want to sleep outside?" Joseph asked as she brought a leaf down by snapping a branch off the tree and chewed it.

"Iruku always sleep with mama and papa in caves. Mama said it's safer. Iruku don't like being alone," she sulked then made a face, disliking her greeneries and dropping it entirely. "It's scary here," she mumbled.

"How come?"

"It's too quiet."

A wrinkle formed between his brows at that. Perhaps Gallia being famous to hunt down monsters and beasts tended to make its forest much more quiet than usual, especially near Versailles where it was so safe that his father could lax a bit and let his sons roam the forest together without a retinue of knights. Silence from the environment for animals meant there was no food and death being much more common for their kind.

Iruku suddenly froze and sniffed the air.

"Iruku smell blood." She continued sniffing heavily. "Iruku know this smell. Always close when big big brother Joseph is near."

Blood?

"Do I smell like blood, Iruku?"

She shook her head. "Iruku thinks he's avoiding being smelled," she noted. "Iruku seen animals that do the same, always hide where the wind blows."

"He, Iruku? What do you mean?"

"Iruku tried to follow him before but he always goes inside and he's scary." She hunkered down and hid her head in his hand, which was very comical since her head was larger than his body. "Elders said there are monsters out there who likes drinking Iruku's blood if they catch me flying far away from home."

Joseph froze in a startle. Vampires? Here in Versailles? Perhaps they should go back and warn his father's knights. A vampire this close to the palace was not a good sign. It meant ghouls with strength that could rip a man in half and could take on a squadron of knights before its death, with only absolute loyalty to its creator. Its master was much more worse.

But would they believe him? Oh sure, their foolish failure of a prince was a capable mage able to see through Firstborn invisible spells while no other mage in the land could. It would make a good joke. There was Sylphid's testament, but like she said, the vampire would vanish before they had a chance to note or even get close.

He could tell his father directly who would believe him, no doubt the king would order a thorough sweep over the palace. Except he always had to depend on his father for people to take him seriously, not like he minded considering it just made it easier to see people true self. But still, it bothered Joseph. He was to be Gallia's king, yet no one truly listened to him. Well, if this was what people expected from him, then easier to play along with it. As his father would say, he didn't need to excel the finer points of conversation or wear a nice mask to rule a kingdom well. He only needed those not to make enemies with the lords, something Joseph scoffed. They should answer to the Crown and him regardless.

The young prince grimaced as he stood beneath the light shimmering through the forest canopies. He had his wand and well… he did take a swordwand from the knight's armory.

Would this be enough?

He had a spell as well, a spell that he was sure made him faster than the vampire from the get-go. He could easily run if things went so bad and warn his father's knights that had come with him. Frankly, this was a bad idea. He shouldn't have snuck off and waited for Sylphid as he had told her to. But he was the foolish prince known to do only stupid things, he didn't really have much care for what people expect of him, even to his own expectations.

He felt the sword at the side of his leg and he drew the blade out swiftly. His father's blue eyes stared back at him from the shiny metal.

He began the chant, carefully waiting for a sudden snap of twigs or something. He rushed the words out of his mouth as the afternoon sunlight softly faded to a familiar blue sun. Joseph jerked his head up and quickly looked around, it was hard to spot the black knight. He was sure his eyes went past his figure three times before he realized how eerie he blended with the forest's shadow and the thickets of distant trees.

Joseph was reminded of a painting of a black Gallian tiger that blended so well with the dense foliage of the forest. It took a while for most to notice where the tiger was in the painting. The artist had captured how the elusive predator cat stalked its prey. The same could be said for his vampire even when frozen in time.

Up close, he noted how well equip and well maintain the black knight's armor was. The cape of black fur shiny as if someone had taken the time to brush it. A pair of short blades lay sheathed at his sides. Joseph reached for the helmet and carefully he lifted away from the person's head.

A man, decade younger than his father stared at the empty space ahead where he once stood. He looked human, but didn't vampires were said to look like humans? It was what made it hard to hunt down vampires as they could easily hide amongst the populace so well. The only telltale sign a human was actually a vampire was their aversion to sunlight. There were tales that sunlight burned them, others said it made it hard for them to use their abilities and could barely function in the light, weakening them.

His stalker was heavily garbed, not one hint of skin could be seen with a pair of gauntlets covered even his hands from the sun. If he was a hired mercenary, then he was obviously rich enough to afford his armor but it wasn't what Joseph imagined an assassin would be equipped with or dress as. He stuck out like a sore thumb for one if it weren't for his invisibility spell.

"What am I going to do with you?" Joseph muttered with annoyance, then he looked down at the helmet in his hands.

Vampires didn't work well with sunlight, right? He looked up. Plenty of sunlight even under the forest's shade.

Sylphid said she wanted to hunt, let's see if she could hunt a vampire. Joseph hurried towards the dragon, helmet tucked under his arm as he climbed up onto her flat back. He said the final verse of his spell and the world caught up with a jerk from the dragon. He pressed his hand briefly at the top of her head, stopping any movement from her as his eyes laid where the vampire was, now startling into his sight.

"Hey!" he shouted at the man comically snapping his hand to his head at finding his helmet missing. "Looking for this?" He gestured his prize for the world to see.

In answer, his stalker turned around and run deeper in the foliage.

"Sylphid, after him!" he ordered the dragon.

Child dragon or not, Sylphid was still a predator and at once knew when an opportunity struck. She rushed with a surprising speed that made Joseph dropped his prize helmet and gripping the blue scales of her large neck. She was as subtle as a drunk bear in the forest though, considering the amount of crashing and noise she was making, but she was fast and easily dodged any tree that came close to them while keeping up with the vampire.

Joseph wondered if there was a way to hasten the dragon with his spell like how wind mage did with their flying steed. Sylphid was fast but the vampire was more nimble and quicker, plus she was on foot and not flying like a dragon in hunting would. The vampire was also heading towards the thicker part of the forest where the sunlight was sparser. Not good, he thought grimly.

It wouldn't hurt to try his spell now. Joseph raised his swordwand and pointed it slightly downward but not directly at the dragon. He quickly uttered the first verse of the spell and repeated it. Spells required a caster's intention, Joseph hoped his was enough for the spell to react to the way he wanted it to.

He was rewarded with Sylphid crashing into a tree, surprised at the sudden flash of speed. Wood groaning and cracking, the tree fell with an earth-shaking slam. The Rhyme Dragon shook her head, clambering back up with the Crown Prince clinging stubbornly to her back.

"Go, go, go, go!" Joseph shouted, his teeth bared in frustration.

She did as she was told without complaining, caught up with her dragon instinct. This time, Joseph made sure he didn't utter his spell if there was a tree in Sylphid's way. It took luck and a combination of good timing to catch up and get where there were, right beside the vampire, with only the passing trees separated the hunter and the hunted. Sylphid pounced with a flash, slamming their target sliding to the ground and firmly beneath her large claws.

Joseph grinned gleefully from the top, slightly wanted to dance on spot on Iruku's back while clapping rapidly. The foolish prince of Gallia caught a vampire! But he suppressed his silly reaction and quickly looked over Iruku's head. He slightly frowned at the still man laid beneath the dragon's claws.

He was not moving.

Did Sylphid kill him? He was a vampire right, he shouldn't go down that easily. Joseph frowned and slid off the dragon's back. Iruku continued to growl as he went over to the man. Backs to the ground, arms firmly to his side and beneath the sharp claws. Joseph inched closer and prodded the man's head with his foot.

No response and he wasn't breathing. He crouched down and pressed his fingers to the neck, checking the pulse.

A pair of eyes snapped open in answer and a fist full of gauntlet punched him right in the nose.

He stumbled back, swearing and clutching his bleeding nose. This was even worse than the time he got caught in a bar fight from his sneaking out nights, his eyes immediately watered from the pain for one, and his nose he was very sure was broken. Sylphid shrieked somewhere off.

"Forgive me, your highness."

He blinked rapidly as blood spilled through his fingers and onto his clothes as he breathed heavily through his mouth, Joseph quickly looked up. A silent empty forest greeted him.

* * *

He could go to his father and immediately tell his tale of encountering his vampire stalker (that he had an inkling his father hired it to watch him), which would no doubt put him in lockdown and surrounded with knights and guards everywhere he goes (and not for abandoning his father's ever vigilant knights in the forest), or…

"Charles, did I ever tell you that you are amazing," he said as his nose cracked back to normal under his brother's healing spell.

A cold wet towel was put into his hand and Joseph immediately wiped his face clean from the dry blood.

"Joseph, you have yet to tell me what happened to you."

"A ghost punched me, Charles."

His brother's glare said everything he needed to know.

"It's true! Ask Sylphid," Joseph said quickly.

"And you happened to see this ghost, how?"

"Would you believe me if I say I learn a spell that made me able to from sniffing incense?"

"Joseph…" Charles groaned and covered his face that was very much how his father would do whenever Joseph was involved with something very stupid.

"Look, look, I'll show it to you," he said very excitedly and pulled out his wand.

No, no, no, he was not going to deal with one of Joseph's explosion, especially in his own room and right in his face. "Brother, no…"

He only heard the first few words and his brother was gone, completely gone with a gentle breeze. Charles frowned and waved his hand into the space where his brother was. Nothing. Just empty air.

"Joseph, is this an invisibility spell?" he asked aloud.

No answer. He jumped when the door to his room rattled and burst open from the outside, Joseph leaned against the door and into his room, he rushed towards him with a big grin.

"See! I can cast a spell, little brother! Aren't you happy for me," he said, taking him into his arms, shaking him when he spun and danced on the spot.

"Joseph… Joseph!" Charles said into his brother's chest and tried to push him away, succeeded when his brother finally let go and continued doing his silly dance. "W-what, how… when?"

He stopped and looked at him. "From the incense bu…" Joseph froze his mouth, suddenly remembering something.

Charles stared at him oddly. "Incense what?"

"Let's forget we had this conversation, okay?" his brother said quickly and he rushed out.

"Joseph!" Charles shouted and chased after him out into the corridor.

It was quite a known fact that it was highly improper to run in hallways, including for princes. But Joseph did not care and just ran. Charles was not going to let his brother get away, not after all the trouble he just went through. His brother owed it to him to explain what happened. While his brother was big and fast, and he was small, Charles had to make do with using wind spells to catch up on him.

Joseph hearing the chant looked behind with that stupid grin on his face. He replied with his own verse of spell and just to egg him, he only used the first verse, disappearing and appearing in a flash, always at the further end of the corridor before he waved and ran off.

It suddenly became a race with a combination of hiding and seeking, one of which Charles had always won until... today. He was playing with him, he was playing with him! Joseph had led him all around the whole Versailles.

"I'm going to tell father!" Charles shouted after he lost his brother the tenth time, his face furious red and upset at this sudden change of him _losing_ to his brother. Losing!

"Tell him what," Joseph said, suddenly appearing and squeezing his cheek teasingly.

It was what he expected and Charles immediately smacked the wand out of his brother's hand with his brother gaping at him.

"You sly…" Joseph said and jumped after his wand.

Charles quickly said the incantation and send the wand flying out of a window and into the garden somewhere in the flowers and grass, then he spun around and ran for Grand Troyes where his father was finishing up with the court. His best spell of wind muttered quickly in his mouth as he ran through multiple corridors and went down many stairs, the young prince face red when he finally arrived just in the grand hallway before the door of the throne room.

Only to crash to the ground when his brother tackled him out of nowhere, breathing just as heavily but with his whole body shaking from willpower exhaustion.

Gallia's greatest and brightest of nobles was too busily wrestling each other on the floor, both trying to stop one another from chanting and using their wand or reaching for the door, then they just quit and were too busy trying to pin another to the ground and embarrassed each other.

One of the knights was prudent enough to tell the king about his two sons right outside his door were fighting each other. In courtly robes and the heirloom crown of Gallia on his head, His Royal Majesty, Louis Charles de'Gallia stormed outside his meeting with a cold gale sweeping through the hall.

There were many shoutings that happened that day with both Princes grounded to their room and confiscated of their wands.

* * *

AN: Gallia, the hotbed of wild experiments considering vampire hybrids, the chimeric monsters, the mage brain in minotaur and a whole lot of fucked up shit from canon, and the mages have 6000 thousand years to do this kind of shit.

I had to cut a scene where Joseph told Sylphid a bunch of bullshit about ghost are dead thing, namely meats that are parasite that would eat her insides. Which would promptly make her refuse to eat any of her food, with Charles having to deal a very clingy dragon that thinks she's dying and involved more intense hugging session.

Speaking of Charles, I find it funny in canon, he abandoned one of his twin daughters for the sake of the throne. He named his abandoned daughter Josette, which is the diminutive of Josephine, which is the feminine form of **Joseph**. Said daughter became the next Void Mage and took the throne away from her sister, Charlotte... Charl...

Joseph: It's like you love me and hate me, brother.


	4. Side Story: Vampire Mercenary

AN: Worldbuilding, and expanding backstory chapter on the whole Elemental Siblings and Undercurrent in canon

* * *

 **Side Story: Vampire Mercenary**

* * *

His life started when he was tracking a boar in the forest. He remembered he carried his spears on his back, armed with a bow and a handful of arrows in his family quiver. But instead of a meal that would last a good month if preserved and rationed well, he found a pale bloody boy in the evening light, standing near a dead boar torn open like some animal had fought it.

Brimir blessed this child, he had thought. Because that boy should be dead and must be seriously wounded beneath all that blood. He at once took the child in and brought him back to his village. The clothes he wore was barely enough, and he had asked the boy what village he had come from and why he was there, alone, in a forest.

The child didn't answer but just stared emptily. He was astounded to learn not a single wound was found beneath all that blood.

The villagers started to buzz at that, suspicious and superstitious.

He ignored the warnings, he and his wife took the boy in. As a boy, he was hardly rumbustious as his daughters and didn't eat much. He must have been sick or something. Despite that, the boy tried to play. Tried, but he would stop and hang his head before sitting down, quickly exhausted beneath the summer sun.

Summer festival came shortly, in the night he was more alive, and he managed to smile but only briefly. But the village elders talked about sending him away to an orphanage, or a town close by where a healer would surely find the reason why he was sick. That had changed everything.

Drunk by the festivity, even the village watchers were caught in the merriment. The night ended with everyone dead asleep.

He woke up to silence, his wife still heavily asleep beside him. As usual, he got up early and into dawn's light to wash his face with a bucket of freshly drawn out water. Daylight unusually bright to his eyes but he paid no heed, only curious of why he didn't see his usual neighbors not up and about, or why he couldn't hear Daniel's annoying whistling or the clatter of Maude's beating her straw rug. Perhaps everyone was still too hangover from last night.

His family was still asleep, and he had taken upon it to set up breakfast for them. Once done his chores, he left the village to hunt.

Hangover persisted throughout the day, a headache that kept pounding and grew worse enough for him to sit down in the tree's shade. Perhaps he should go back early instead, and he did, sighing in relief in seeing his neighbors up and about from the distant. The early morning's silence and eeriness forgotten. Everyone looked haggard though and went about their business slowly.

He called his neighbor and they barely responded, only jerking their head up and nodded before they went back to their work woodenly. He had frowned, the sinking feeling in his stomach worsening. Something was wrong, his instinct screamed.

He hurried home, finding his wife tending the flames and his two daughters politely sitting at their table, twiddling their dining utensil. They were all quiet at his arrival, not greeting like usual. He made a joke there was a funeral happening. His wife said nothing, and only stared at him emptily. He asked what was wrong, her lack of response making his heart beat rapidly. She felt cold when he touched her.

Cold as a corpse. He immediately went to his two daughters, hands on their head, touching their neck. No pulse.

He ran out into the village, grabbing his neighbor and checking them, finding the same for each as he shouted and shook them, begging them to respond.

They were like dolls, dolls being puppet by another. This was like a nightmare, a sick twisted joke made into a nightmare, the whole village dead but pretending to be alive, and he knew the reason why they were like this. He passed out beneath the sun in the moment of this revelation, recalling his last moment being dragged back into a building.

He woke up to a sad little boy saying he was sorry, he thought everything would go back to normal and that he wouldn't notice the difference. All because he didn't want to leave the village. He said he never had a father before and found him nice enough and made him _his_.

He had laughed, because he knew and realized why now, why he wasn't like his wife and children, why he wasn't turned into mindless ghouls. Here he was, thirsty and sick, and no longer human, all because this boy wanted him as his family.

How could something so innocent be so monstrous? He refused to move from where he laid, hoping sleep would wake him up from this nightmare.

He ended waking up to fire and the roof of his home crashing down on him. The King's Knights were here to cleanse the unholy stain from this land. Or so he thought, it ended up being two triangle fire mages incinerating everything: the house, the animals - its habitants putting up a fight, rushing towards them even in flame. Vampire or not, he still felt the pain of fire and without looking back, he ran.

He ran what seemed forever.

Except he couldn't go doing it forever. The thirst drying his mouth and the headache pounding in his head harder to ignore, a constant ringing in his ears growing louder as his breathing grew heavy. Like a vulture swooping, a different pair of mage caught him, they stuffed liquid into his mouth that made his inside burn and rip apart, then he was thrown into a cage with another.

He didn't know how long he had been imprisoned, all he remembered drowsily how warm the summer sun was and the nights being too cold. Once in a while, someone would grab his head and shoved more liquid into his mouth.

It was night, the crickets chirping and the constant swaying and shaking of the cages stopped. They were put down roughly. A fire was lit and the air alive by the sweeping of wings. A lantern rattled and there was a loud clang, someone stood over his cage.

"This," the man began, his accent strange but familiar, commonly spoken by upper nobles. "Is no monster." He pursed, disappointed.

"But her wings," one of his captor began. "She's one of the winged ones."

"Yes, I know. Fascinating beings, but hardly a beast or a monster," the mage corrected. "Unless she's some kind of hybrid, then our deal is off." He then oddly stopped and muttered, "Vampire hybrid…" A notebook was brought out and he quickly scribbled something down.

Distantly, he was aware another being sat in the same cage as him, who was oddly quiet and said nothing at the exchange.

"Don't look at me like that," the mage said sourly at her. "Didn't your tribe told you not to fly so far away from the nest."

She said nothing.

"Nope, nope. You're not going to fool poor Jacob here," the mage continued adamantly. "You're not going to make me waste my coin."

Still more silence and then a tiny whimper broke.

"Oh for the love of gods," Jacob swore. "Fine! Fine, I will buy her. Get her out of that cage already!"

The banging of metals and the rattling of cages being unlocked, the warm presence that has been accompanying him was lifted up and put down outside.

"Now run along, shoo! Fly. Leave this place," Jacob said somewhere off. "But if I find out you are helping these men conning me, there will be trouble I tell you! Trouble!" He then muttered sourly before returning to his cage. "You better fulfill your promise to me."

"Of course, your excellent. This is the vampire that you wanted."

"This? This is no ten-year-old boy!" The voice reached a higher pitch when he shrieked. "I explicitly told you to catch-"

"Wait, wait… let us show you."

A hand snatched his arm and roughly pulled him against the cage, he banged his face against the metal and he slightly groaned.

"I find it appalling you left potential food for a vampire in the same cage as it," Jacob commented drily.

"We sedated him with the potions you've provided."

Something sharp cut him and slid down across his arm. He hissed when the blade cut deep, his arm trembling in the rough firm grip.

"See, cut heal nice and quickly," the smug voice went on.

"I can see that," Jacob stated with slight annoyance. "Give me the knife."

"Ow!"

"Oh, don't be a wuss. It's just a cut," Jacob snorted. "Before you ask, yes, I cleaned it. Like I would contaminate you with a vampire blood."

Someone grabbed his nose and peeled his mouth open enough to bare his teeth. A cold blade brushed his tongue, a brief taste of sweetness and he swallowed, exhaling.

"And there we go. Look at that, fangs," Jacob said. "Retracting back nicely into the gums, fascinating."

A brief moment of silence fell, someone tapped their foot repeatedly on the ground.

"On one hand, he's not what I asked for. On the other hand…" He pursed loudly.

His throat was parched as paper when he spoke in whisper, "Help me… Please."

"Jacob, step aside." Another voice cut in.

"My lord?"

Footsteps approached the cage, the lantern light bright and glaring when it was brought closer to his face.

"What's your name?" the man asked.

He inhaled deeply, sucking what little moisture in his mouth. "Dead people have no names."

A cold laugh swept out from the man's mouth. "How old are you?"

"Thirty… three."

"I meant how long have you been a vampire."

Since the summer festival. He was sure, that was the last moment of his time as a human. "Solstice," he whispered at the glaring ball of light that stared back through the cage.

"A newly made vampire?" Jacob said, barely containing his excitement. "Do you know what this means!" He hissed.

"Tell me, mister vampire. Would you be interested working for the Crown?"

If he had his mind, he would have surely asked if it was a sick joke or something.

"I'll make you a deal. I'll feed you, I'll make my men teach you how to fight, I'll get Jacob to show you what you're capable of and give what you need to make your job easy. In return, bring me _ten_ of your kind alive."

"Ten!" Jacob hissed either from excitement or from pure incredulity.

"Your Highness, he's a monster – he will only betray you." Another voice cut in.

"We'll see," The man said, amused. "Bring me the dagger."

"What?"

"You heard me, bring me Undercurrent."

Footsteps marched in, there was a sound of a box opening. A chanting of spell in a murmuring voice, something cool and narrow slid into his hand, his fingers immediately wrapped around it and his hand moved it closer to his chest.

"Pay the mages, Jacob. And get him ready."

"At once, my lord."

It was surreal to be one of the King's knights. To don clothes, armor and weapon that would cost more that he and his family ever owned. It was something boys played and pretended as, pointing sticks and saying gibberish words in place of proper spells, running around and yelling for the Glory of the Crown. A commoners' pipe dream. It was something, he realized, the mages looked and laughed under their breath. And yet, he was in their world, but not amongst them. He was not their peer.

He was a hick of a farmer, a pathetic example of a feared monster. Something to laugh, something to sneer, but the curl on lips faltered when he brought his first vampire without any legs attached to them. The second without their eyes. The third almost half-dead. By then, no one said a word to him, the distance between him and them still unattainable.

It was something between his wildest nightmare and a wondrous dream. He was fast, he was strong, he could smell more, hear more, see more. The world that he once knew that was no friend to mankind was alive, whispering and murmuring words that he never heard nor knew yet he could understand.

And he could speak back! He could sing the words for water to jump, childish lullabies he had learned and hummed under his breaths became spells. The wind runs with him, the trees rustle of stories, even fire doesn't hurt him if he asked it to. It was amazing and so easy to kill with - just by asking, and the world would snuff out a life without a blink. Yet on a whim, it would sometime ignore him, sometimes it would do the opposite of what he had asked, sometimes it would do something else.

It was no friend. It listened, but it listened to everyone and for that, it could easily turn around and kill him instead. It was a wondrous, uncaring, cruel world. Was this why the Firstborn were so feared, they could ask the world to do as they please while mages tire as they try to wield the world.

He has yet to pay his debt to the Crown at the time, but three was enough for him to be accepted as one of the King's knight.

"You'll be called Number One from now on," an old knight spoke.

"Why number one?" he asked softly.

"Because I'm number one and every host that I inhabit share the number!" The dagger hummed cheerfully.

"You'll be the fifth number one…" The knight droll.

"What happened to all previous number ones?" he asked.

"Dead," the knight said in a clipped manner.

"Dots and Lines all of them, and I worked so hard to make them reach past Triangle…" The dagger lamented loudly from his side. "But I've never had a newly minted vampire body before. So this is a new experience for me as well! With your _willing_ body and my brain, well… my mind, we'll make for a good pair of vampire hunters," it said, excited at the prospect. "Never have tried myself out with those creatures in a body like theirs."

"Take comfort you have a partner that can make the most common of mages the deadliest," the knight said with a sniff.

He learned much later that if he had failed or run away, the dagger that he had not once thought of letting go would have killed him with his blood and bones harvested for research. Blood and bones…

It wasn't just researching a way for poisons and alchemical weapons that could paralyze men, or be used to destroy a mage's source of power, and devastate the local pest populations. They were also experimenting on common seeds that could withstand drought, pest, and grant more bountiful harvest. Even diseases did not stop these unholy men of science, from the mild to the most lethal that even he, a creature immune to mortal ailments was forbidden to enter some of their rooms.

Agriculture, hybridization, even chimeric experiment.

"A brain of a horse inside a fire dragon's body…" He was perplexed.

"It was eating hays and liked oats a few weeks ago," said Jacob, an elderly researcher who was taking notes of its current habits.

Namely eating meat with a bloody mess.

"What happened?"

"The body of the dragon changed it," Jacob muttered absentmindedly. "Does blood make monster a monster? That's like the entirely opposite of us, why doesn't our blood contain powerful properties while these native monsters do?" he asked.

"It must have been transformed, something had happened to its brain," he muttered, and with motion at the knights watching the creature feasting, multiples spells both water and wind were aimed at its neck.

The head was decapitated cleanly without it so much screeching. He winced.

"Crushed powdered bones of these creatures make for great alchemical ingredients," Jacob noted as assistants came to harvest the body of the dragon. "Bones are magical, organs or at least the oil secreted from its innards contains powerful properties."

The researcher then hummed. "Do these monsters blood contains poison that could transform the mind? Is there a way to cleanse such property? Or even extract it?" he mumbled absentmindedly. "Bones and blood… why the brain, why not transfer the bones into the body, would it affect the body? Yes, yes…" he trailed off listlessly, writing down in his notebook.

Take a human brain out of its own body and put into a monster's, and it would turn into a monster. While a monster would become just as smart as man but remained a monster.

Jacob described this process similar to a _foul spirit_ of a disease but one that didn't kill its host, but change it. A symbiotic parasite. No different to drugs and potions that could influence and transform the mind, and a vampire's body was full of this. This was what separated them from the men and elves, what made them closer to monsters. So far, he has yet to extract this alchemical agent into a pure form.

All the vampiric blood was used up to make failures, instable bloodthirsty hybrids and purely _mad_ beings with their lives cut short. They were more like the rare _ghoul_ than pure vampires, but instead of being dead corpse animated by Water magic much like the ghouls, they were alive. Apparently, making ghoul was not an easy process, the vampires he caught could only make one at a time out of its recent victims.

But his whole village had turned into these ghouls. How was that possible then? Mass necromancy or multiple thralls was not an easy feat to come by, not even with Firstborn magic.

There was another off-putting thought, contrary to popular myths and tales, vampires were _born_ than made. Jacob, though, didn't cross out the legends from the picture entirely. Theoretically, there was an ancient technique of Firstborn Magic out there that could take advantage of the transforming effects of the vampire's essence, and amplify the changes to make full-blooded vampires from another.

It seemed so out of there, but considering the living chimeras and Jacob trying to find a way to make vampire hybrids out of a similar process, what was stopping the long-living race of vampires from doing the same with their own branch of water magic? Even worst, they probably have discovered this process and passed it down the generations. It was a comforting thought to know such knowledge and history was lost in the Great Purge of their kind.

But what about the boy then, his progenitor? Even to this day, he was still at large and uncaught.

Jacob held no interest, he had just begun his experiments of switching the bones of a living human with that of a vampire, artificial implants. Vampires body were after all no different to humans in a structural sense.

"I just need to find the right match!" Jacob had said cheerfully.

More hunting of screaming and spitting vampires that curse after him with criminals living and dying for the pursuit of knowledge. The new variation of the hybrids not faring better, but they were less vampire and more… human. Sunlight didn't bother them, and they had no need for bodily fluid. They were faster and stronger though, but they were still a failure. Jacob wanted magic, and no commoner made a show they could sense the spirits or use magic.

Failure in society, failure in science, and that meant only one thing. Some had tried to escape, taking advantage of their newfound power, but he would be there to cut them down before they could.

The slow realization he indirectly made more demons and his own kind with those failed hybrids had splash what little anger left in him. How was he different to that boy who thought by turning the whole village would make him happy?

This was the price of a cure. If there was a cure. Jacob was honest enough to admit that there were no techniques or alchemical potions that exist to do just that: take the vampire out of a man. But the mad mage wasn't dissuaded as he found reversing the transformation or at least curing the symptoms such as the need for human fluid and weakness to sunlight a challenge worth pursuing. The closest thing a vampire could become a man again.

But he didn't have the patience to wait for that long, by then a decade and more of working in the shadows of Gallia and more memories of dead men and women staring behind those cells, fated to become monsters, failures, or outright dead on the table - he started to think it was better to die than live with this.

"I want to resign, Your Majesty," he finally asked the prince now king who stood watching his knights dragging the troll.

"Has Jacob filled you with ideas that you could live off a brothel?" The king mused.

A crude joke that startled him. He knew he didn't need to live with blood as he had learned when Jacob grilled one of the caught vampires.

 _"Define bodily fluid, does that include any kind of excretion, like urine?"_

He remembered the splutter and the hollering of insults. Jacob assumed yes at that and it was only a matter of taste of why vampire chose blood. Blood… blood was sweeter than any wine, it was ambrosia, it was a taste that haunted one's tongue. It wasn't something he could forget. He also remembered it was his first smile he had made since he turned.

"Or are you getting married?" The king cut his thought again with another crude joke.

"N-no…"

Cold blue eyes gazed at him. "You're tired of taking lives."

 _I'm tired of living_. He didn't want this anymore and he wasn't sure he could stand living and working like this for years to come.

"Perhaps a change in the air is what you need," his employer said. "All the gold I've given you have not been spent one bit."

What did a vampire need from carrying gold? What could he spent on besides his armor and sharpen his blades? The only thing he ever did with the gold was dumped them in random villages or at church. He had yet to spend it in a brothel… something the sentient dagger, Undercurrent had laughed at.

He slightly shuddered at the thought of the blade experiencing through the motion. Knowing how old it was and how many bodies it had possessed, accumulated knowledge and experiences from them, he was sure Undercurrent had seen it all.

"Taking lives is easy, but protecting it is not," the king told him. "I want you to watch my eldest son. Any spies, any assassins, anything that struck out for you, I want you to bring them in and report to me. You have my permission to kill if necessary."

"Well, I'm not going to be stuck with babysitting duty. Find me another host if you're going to give him this job," his mouth cut in without tact. "I will only accept a triangle mage no less."

"I thought you wouldn't be willing to let go of this host, Undercurrent." The king smiled.

"Willing host are rare, but I never like being so reliant on one body anyway," The living dagger scoffed, his hand had unconsciously tightened around its hilt. Skin contact with its metal was something Undercurrent liked, and something his body had made into a habit.

It was oddly disturbing and yet comforting in a way.

"You trust me with the heir of Gallia?" he asked the king.

"Do you hate your life enough that you're willing to ruin the land that which you stand upon?" The king looked at him with a thin smile still on his face.

"No."

"Why do you serve me?"

"Because you are my king."

"And would you serve another that would replace me if he too was king?"

He hesitated at that.

"Shall I tell you a tale of the first _Markey_ vampire?"

* * *

 _When the Markey came, the natives of the land invited them to a feast in celebration of a new future. They were beautiful and enchanting, and unlike the elves, they welcome the tribes with open arms, but they were deceitful with their hearts blacker than the night. For the feast was instead the blood of Markey that they drank like wine. They left but one who they had cursed and given back like a lamb._

 _Merciful Brimir took her in and wrote life onto her heart in honor of our two ancestors that the gods had hidden from Ragnarok. The gods took his offering and punished the wicked blood-lusting demons and cleanse their kind forevermore, blessing Brimir a land without scourge…_

Joseph blinked rapidly but his eyes gradually glazed over the rest of the words. Really unhelpful, he thought as sleep slowly clenched its claw deep into him. The book of folklores slowly dipped down with each breath he took and finally rested on his chest, his fingers loosening from its hard leather cover as his blue eyes drifted shut.

He fell asleep as he laid in his large bed, the reading lamplight lit brightly on his bedside.

A gauntlet made of dark metal reached out from the shadow, but hesitated a hair-breadth away from the prince. It retracted back into the darkness and a pale hand instead reached out in its place. It gently took the book away from the Crown Prince and placed it on the bedside table, then with a click, the light was switched shut.


End file.
